It took Hunter a while to process what had just happened after leaving Dom's place.
"So... I passed the test?"
He looked down at the key in his hand. It was for a Ford.
Having worked at the garage, Hunter knew Dom's fleet well.
Dom owned several cars, mostly bought with the proceeds from the highway heists over the last few years.
His favorite, of course, was the 1970 Dodge Charger R/T he inherited from his father.
He had dumped hundreds of thousands of dollars into that beast, rebuilding and upgrading it multiple times. He had turned a decades-old muscle car into one of the highest-performance vehicles on the West Coast, capable of smoking million-dollar supercars in a straight line.
Aside from the Charger, Dom had about six other cars: Ford, Chevy, Volkswagen, Toyota, Honda, Mazda.
None were luxury exotics. Just standard coupes and sedans.
But Dom had modified every single one of them.
The key Hunter held likely belonged to the Ford Mustang.
Hunter knew the car. Or rather, his predecessor did.
It was a 4th Generation Ford Mustang (2001).
While purists debated whether the 4th gen was a "true" muscle car, it had the Mustang DNA: big displacement, high horsepower, and aggressive styling.
Dom had bought the coupe version and spent at least $100,000 modifying it.
In the US, where cars were cheap, $100k was enough to buy a base model Ferrari Roma. Spending that on a Mustang meant it was a monster.
"If it's really the Mustang, Dom is being incredibly generous."
Hunter hadn't expected his first car in this life to be a gift.
But thinking about it, he accepted it without guilt.
Dom wasn't stupid. That bald head held a sharp mind. The car was payment for intelligence that could save his "Family" from prison or worse.
Hunter found a secluded spot, pulled his motorcycle out of his Inventory, and rode to the garage warehouse.
It was locked for the night.
No problem.
Hunter's Lockpicking was Level 2.
He pulled out his lockpicking kit. The warehouse lock was simple. A few seconds later, the door clicked open.
Inside, he found it immediately.
The Ford Mustang.
He unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat.
As he turned the key, the engine roared to life with a deep, throaty rumble.
The moment his hands touched the steering wheel, a feeling of absolute control washed over him.
[Driving Lv 4] was no joke.
When he leveled up, his brain had been flooded with techniques—drifting, cornering, engine management.
Hunter had driven in his past life, but this was different. He wasn't just driving; he was communing with the machine.
Vroom!
The modified engine purred like a predatory cat.
Hunter skillfully steered the car out of the warehouse with one hand, locked up behind him, and vanished into the night.
The next day, still no calls from Old Parker or Charlie Croker.
Hunter spent a few hours grinding at the Boxing Club and Shooting Range, then went fishing and swimming at the beach.
As evening approached, he grabbed a new compact camera.
He stealthily tailed Brian as he left the parts shop.
He snapped photos of Brian loitering near Mia's cafe.
Then, he got lucky.
To his surprise, on the very first night of tailing him, Brian drove straight to the FBI Field Office.
Hunter captured clear shots of Brian entering the building.
That was the smoking gun.
Hunter knew Dom already believed him, but Dom needed concrete proof to convince his crew.
The "Family" wouldn't stop the heists just on a hunch. They needed to see the heat. If one of them went rogue because they didn't believe the danger, they could bring everyone down.
Hunter got the photos developed in Chinatown.
He planned to wait a couple of days before delivering them to build suspense.
But on the third day, his phone rang at noon.
It was Dom.
His cold, deep voice cut straight to the chase.
"I found the woman you're looking for."
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